polaris
by hisgirltuesday
Summary: This is what I know: He will not come back. My mother used to warn me, beware of boys who live under stage lights, guitar solos, and the fame that comes with it. On my right wrist, there are the scripted words: love is no journey. On the left: it ends when it begins. —A move, a dream, a city with too many flashing lights. AH. PROCESS OF BEING REWRITTEN.
1. it was all a thrill I got locked in

**AN: I don't own Max Ride.**

.

.

**::: Chapter 0.5 :: Prologue :: 21 June 2014 :::**

* * *

_if the whole world was blind_

_how many people would you impress_

* * *

.

.

"Max, Maya, dinner's in the fridge if you get hungry!"

The front door slams shut and with that, I'm alone in the house with my sister. For now, anyway.

I wait an extra five minutes after the telltale rumble of the pickup fades down the driveway before changing into a tank and basketball shorts. My phone buzzes from my bed and I hastily type a quick reply to the text.

_Backlot in ten, k?_

I head out from my room, only stopping in front of another one two doors to the left of mine. The white door is slightly ajar, and I walk in without knocking.

She's lying on her bed, book in hand, with her headphones on. She hums a tune without the words but even then I know what the lyrics are-it's _their_ song, even after all the heartache he put her through.

I do know that she knows the words, but the fleeting memories are still tied to every single syllable and they're laced with heartbreak and poison of the sweetest kind. Words to wound and not to kill, but close enough. Enough that I know that they could never make up her throat and out of her mouth.

"Maya?"

She shifts and looks at me, placing the book down on her nightstand. _How to Kill a Rockstar._ Huh. Fitting.

"I'm going out," I say.

Her mouth quirks into a soft half-smile as she hears the unspoken "To see him."

"Mom's coming back at six," she replies. "You know the drill; cover, lie, wait."

I walk over and hug her, breathing in the familiar lavender shampoo.

"Thanks, Maya."

She pulls away, but keeps one arm around my shoulders. "Take as much time as you want, okay? You've come so far, don't sell yourself short, Max."

I hear the whispered "Unlike me," and squeeze her free hand.

The pain fades, but it never gets better; I'm no stranger. I know the blond boy still haunted her days and nights, no matter how much much she denies it.

I look into identical chocolate eyes and see genuine concern. There's something else in her eyes, something I can't quite decipher, but it's something like understanding, like she _knows_, with that clear, innocent gaze masking years of traveled roads.

She may be a year younger, but this is one of the many times she's ten years older.

I slip away and take one look back over my shoulder.

"Change the song and put your iPod on full blast."

It's the least I can do.

**x /\/\ x**

I enter the backlot through the park, weaving my way through trees and overgrown shrubbery, keeping an eye out for hidden boulders until I reach the far right corner of the lot. As I near the drooping willow tree, I spot a black shadow behind the curtain of leaves.

"When did you get back?" I ask, voice low, ignoring his failed attempt for a quick scare.

"Yesterday night," he answers, coming out of the overhanging greenery and facing me. The sun shines behind him, casting shadows over his face and turning his dark hair a burnt copper at the edges. "We're camping out at Dylan's house."

I nod and smile, stepping closer until we're almost touching.

He's the poster boy for a fallen angel, all right. Dark hair, clothes, mysterious eyes swirling with secrets. Sinful smirks that rob me of sleep. Prominent cheekbones, angular jaw.

But this time, he's paler, thinner, and there's something I can't place, but it's definitely wrong. An awkward silence builds around us.

"Max?" He's on edge, unimpressed with the silence.

I jerk my head up to meet his eyes, and then I know.

They're a beautiful dark brown, as expected, but they're slightly blank and glassy; I can't see the gold flecks in them anymore.

I shove him back. Caught off guard, he stumbles, nearly tripping over a root. He growls and steadies himself with the rusty chainlink fence.

"What the fuck, Max?"

I snarl back. "Don't bullshit me, Fang. You've been using."

A pause. We both know it's not a question.

"I'm sorry, Max." He keeps his calm composure, damn him.

I snort, shooting him an incredulous look. _Sorry, Max. I said I was sorry, Max. I'm sorry, Max. _Funny how often I heard this. Funny how it's become so meaningless in such a short period of time.

"I bet you are," I spit. He senses the danger in my voice and hastily tries to amend his previous statement.

"I mean, I'm not exactly an addict-"

I snap, and somewhere in the world a volcano must have exploded, too.

"What are you, seventeen again, Fang? _That's what they all say_." I try hard to keep my voice down, but it's becoming increasingly hard. "And look what happens to them. The ones that actually make it to rehab are considered the lucky ones. And are you forgetting that your fucking career is on the line, along with the band's? I swear, Fang, you really need to get your shit together."

He runs his left hand through his hair, disrupting shades of copper. I see the bags under his eyes now. He doesn't say anything.

I heave a sigh and remember Maya's words. _Don't sell yourself short._

"When I think everything's gonna be okay, you go and cause a trainwreck. When I think we're gonna be okay, things get fucked up. And when I think I think I'm gonna be okay..." I trail off, as the words choke up in my throat.

He places his hands-both of them-on my shoulder, and I don't draw away. I don't flinch, because there's things to be said and done.

_You've come so far. Don't sell yourself out._

"When I think I'm finally okay, you go and make me want you one more time," I finish brokenly. I've heard stories about how letting it all go will make situations better, but I feel even more weighed down than ever.

He runs his hands down my bare shoulders now.

"I'll always want _you_, Max," he whispers and nuzzles my hair. He grabs my hand and places it over his heart. "You keep this beating," he breathes out, "you make it _soar_."

Even the most twisted angels are what they are: beautiful. It doesn't matter if they're so broken and flawed; they can drown you in lies coated in honey and you'll still believe them. They could break your heart for kicks and giggles and you'll come crawling back for more.

It's the most fucked up cycle, but it flows like water. We gravitate towards each other, I want to pull away, he wants to hold on and never let go. And somewhere down the road I'm forced to watch as our love goes up in flames. Maya was right. He's a different kind of heartbreak, a different kind of war. The kind of heartbreak you know it'll take an eternity to heal from, even after you move on. He's the kind of war you know you're not gonna come home from, no matter how badly you want to win.

I feel the walls and what little resistance around me crumble and fall. And once again, I'm reminded of how helpless I can be. At times like these, I don't find the invincible Max. But I bet if I could find her now, she'd be disappointed.

He cups my face and kisses me, soft and slow. Sinfully sweet and poisonous, the one true slow killer.

I know I'm past the point of no return. There wasn't anything anyone could do to to save me now. I'm drowning in the ocean, and nobody, not even Maya, can pull me back up to the surface and breathe in the new air before he came around.

He pulls away but I grab him back, not caring about all the nameless, faceless bodies he could pick from when he's away on tour. I want to live in this moment, and I don't care about the consequences that will surely follow.

If I was I good girl, I would walk away and never look back. But his hands slip under my tank and I feel the love, no matter how unstable and fucked up it is, through his callouses.

"Let me love you," he begs, pleads, and I succumb to him.

I nod, and he grabs my hand. I inwardly curse at how perfectly they fit, curse at his existence.

He brings them up to his lips and kisses mine, and I look into his eyes. They've redeemed some of their life, and I smile softly.

Our road leads to destruction, to war, to drunken bar fights, but I trust him. The unsaid words still burn between us, but I push them away into the wilderness. I'll let them incinerate the shrubbery rather than us.

"Come on, Max," he smirks. "Let's get lost."

.

.

* * *

_I think you'll impress me_

* * *

.

.

**AN: And there you have it. A beginning. I tried. **

**As much as I hate writing multi-chaptered fics (especially in first person) my friend prompted me and I hate to turn down a challenge.**

**Wanna drop a review?**


	2. we fly too high and die too young

**AN: I don't own Max Ride, only the plot. And many thanks to my Guest reviewer. You da best :3**

.

.

**:: Chapter 1 :: Farewell, NY. With Love, Max :: 31 November 2013 ::**

* * *

_one day you're gonna see_

_everything a little bit clearer_

* * *

.

.

Lemme tell you, moving cross country is one of the worst things that can ever happen in life—besides world hunger, incurable diseases, and natural disasters, of course.

It felt weird getting off the plane at the airport and meeting sunny weather, overly bright blue skies, no wind, and absolutely no snow. I had absolutely no freaking clue about how I was going to adapt with ice skating in an artificial rink instead of at Central Park in Christmastime. I knew I shouldn't have taken snow for granted, but it's too late now.

I missed Manhattan already.

Someone taps my shoulder and I see my mom with a quizzical look on her face, aimed straight at me.

"Max, honey, where are your suitcases?"

I stare blankly at her for a second, then my brain kicks into gear again. Oh, right. Suitcases. We'd brought our clothes along with us while the furniture and cars were being shipped over.

"I'll go get them right now," I reply, turning to the baggage aisle.

"Maya, I thought I told you to tell Max to get her luggage," my mom questions my sister. "The shuttle leaves in twenty minutes. I don't want to wait another hour for the next ones."

A snicker, then a muffled cough. "I did, but I suppose it slipped her mind," my sister answers in an overly loud voice meant for me to hear. "You know how deep in thought she gets."

A wry smile twists itself onto my face as I search for the familiar red and black polka-dotted luggage case on the conveyor belt. When it does come into view, it's between two bulging black ones, and I heave a sigh. _Great_. I reach for the side handle and tug, freeing it from one black case, but the side strap is caught on ten different something tags on the other one.

Jesus. Was this a suitcase of a under-the-radar stowaway or something?

With that said, I need to add "trying to free luggage on a moving conveyor belt at the airport with masses of people watching" on my list of bad things in life. It didn't help that most of the people at the airport were tired, bored, and probably looking for free entertainment. I try dragging both of them off, but my left arm is far from what strength I possess with my right. Cursing under my breath, I whip around, looking for familiar dirty blond hair with the telltale hot pink and black polka-dotted suitcase.

Nope, nada. I officially hate my sister. Leave it to her to vanish in the most inconvenient times.

I fumble with the tags, but it's excruciating to try to untangle them when the damned belt suddenly speeds up for absolutely _no fucking reason—_except to spite me, I'm sure—and I hiss. The airport people who were controlling this cursed piece of machinery must get off from embarrassing hapless youths.

"I swear, if you don't let go, I will _cut_ you, you freaking piece of shit!"

"I'm going to miss the bus if you don't let go! I'll be left behind in an airport with no money!"

I've gone to threatening to begging in a matter of seconds-I've officially hit an all time low.

A hand on my shoulder and I'm faced with a guy with impossibly dark eyes and a one color fashion sense. He's pretty decent in the looks category, but I'll bet I blew what nonexistent chance I had with him with me talking and yelling at luggage. The moving black belt was just an added bonus.

"I could help you with that, miss." Great. Even his voice, low and husky, was enough to make me silently promise to never talk to inanimate objects in public ever again. A hot guy feeling sorry for a deranged teenage girl. Way to go, Max. Just what I needed for my already sucky morning.

"Okay," I say, and step back, only to watch as he lifts both items off the belt with ease. He places them in front of me, fingers deftly untangling the tags as if he's done it times before.

"Um, thanks," I tell him when he's done and pushes my case towards me.

He gives me a crooked smile. "No problem. It's kinda my fault, actually."

"Your problem—wait, what?"

He shakes his head and smirks. "Never mind about that. But I do enjoy helping people, you know."

I hear the silent laugh and underlying message, and I cross my arms. "Don't lie to me. You were totally laughing at me!"

He puts his arms up in a mock surrender gesture. "In my defense, it was pretty comical."

No shit, Sherlock. If it was anyone else, I would have trouble holding my suppressed laughter, too.

"Yeah, and I bet the other people in this room thought so too," I say dryly, and I have to fight to resist the sudden urge to smile.

"Okay, yeah. It's not everyday that we get to see a rather unfortunate girl trying to free her luggage. But out of the goodness of my heart, I rushed to save you from further humiliation."

A full blown grin makes its way to my face and I run my free hand through my hair. "You know, I'd hate to break this conversation up, but-"

It's then that my sister chooses to magically reappear and interrupt. She has great timing. At the worst times, that is. It's like she was programmed to do this.

"Max! It's almost time! Mom told me to find to because we all know you have a tendency to get lost and all."

I glower at her and she finally notices the stranger I was talking to.

"Oh, hi. Was I interrupting something?"

I resist the urge to strangle her. "No, you weren't, so don't worry your pretty little self," I say in a sickly sweet voice.

And to the savior of my luggage, I smile brightly. "Thank you so much for everything. I'd love to stay and talk, but I need to get to the shuttle before it leaves."

He smiles. "May your suitcases always be safe."

I laugh. "Thanks." And then Maya drags me and my luggage away to the south exits, but not before I hear a "Bye, Max!"

I whip around but he's gone, blurred out by the multitude of people rushing to and fro, for boarding, tickets, or their next flight. Maya and I are soon swept in the current of bodies making it to the shuttle lanes, where blue buses drive up slowly, and she pulls me where our mother waits in line.

"What took you girls so long?"

Maya and I share a look. "Long story."

**x /\/\ x**

The shuttle was oddly quiet, with most of its passengers on their phones, laptops, or quickly dozing off for a fast nap.

"Max, Maya, we're getting off at a rental car station, wake me up when we get there, okay?"

"Okay," we say in unison. Maya and I sit next to each other, while she sat in the seat in front us. I lean over and whisper an additional "Rest well" for good measure.

I sit back down and glance at Maya; for the first time, my younger sister of a year is unusually subdued.

"Hey, My, what's wrong?"

She turns to me, identical chocolate eyes swimming in thought. "I'm scared." It comes out as a whisper, but I hear clearly. I hear the message of worry about school, friends, and family. I know because I feel them too.

Sucks when you move in the middle of junior year, but I think I should count my blessings that I didn't have to move in my senior year.

I reach for her hand. "At least we're away from the cheating bastard, right?" I ask, "and besides, you, me, and mom are together."

Maya smiles a watery smile at me and squeezes my hand.

Once upon a time, Valencia Martinez married a Jeb Batchelder out of love, and moved away from her native California, West Coast to New York, East Coast, where Jeb worked in his company's headquarters, Itex, an international marketing company. Said happy couple had two daughters, and lived in comfort for eighteen years.

But of course, happy endings are the stories that haven't ended yet.

On an extended summer trip, Valencia Batchelder caught said husband in the act with a redheaded secretary, and issued a divorce, then taking custody of their two daughters and fleeing across the country.

It didn't help that Jeb had fathered a ten year old brunette by the name of Ella.

Ella Walker-Batchelder. As much I wanted to hate her, it wasn't her fault that her parents screwed up.

"I miss our friends," I hear her sniff. "I miss Jenny, Alice, and Alex."

I wrap one arm around her. Alex was a sore topic, since they'd both agreed that a long distance relationship would never work.

We settle into a comfortable silence, until Maya reaches into her messenger bag and pulls out her iPod and headphones. I suddenly remember that in a rush, I've shoved mine into my suitcase. But as if reading my thoughts, Maya offers me one neon green earbud.

"I get to choose the songs, though," she smirks.

"Fine with me," I say.

We fall into silence again, but she suddenly nudges me.

"You know, I did a little research, but Nicholas Ride of Northern Lights used to live in Westfield," she says.

"Nicholas who of what?"

She rolls brown orbs and sighs. "This guy in a band used to live in the town we're moving to."

I blink. "O-kayy. Never heard of them before, though."

Maya shrugs. "They're currently debuting."

"Don't get your hopes up, My. It's not like he'll stop by and say hi."

"Never said I wanted him too." But I hear the unspoken wish in her words and suddenly she starts softly singing along to the current song.

_silent love is calling faith _

_to shatter me through your hallways_

_into echoes you can feel_

_and rehearse the way you heal_

She's always had a nice voice. Singing has always been her refuge, as to my writing. I've wrote lyrics for her more than once and I smile a bittersweet smile, for the old times and back to when we were young and innocent.

_make them dance_

_just like you_

_'cause you make me move_

She nudges me and mouths a command to me, but I shake my head. I've been told that I sound like a dying whale more than once, and I certainly don't want a repeat. But Maya glares at me, and I'd hate to ruin this.

_if you ever lose yourself_

_I will find you_

And so I sing along.

_yeah, you always make me go_

Once upon a time, there were two teenage girls who wondered what their future held while singing in the back of a shuttle bus, with memories stuffed into almost matching suitcases.

.

.

* * *

_because the world isn't just shades of gray_

* * *

.

.

**AN: Song is Find You by Zedd.**

**I had fun writing this chapter. Much fun.**

**Northern Lights is an entirely fictional band, but Westfield is an actual place but I'm not basing my story in the real city. Just so you know. **

**It feels weird writing Maya as a good sister, but it oddly fits. To me, she can either be the best thing ever or a walking nightmare, never both at the same time. **

**Your thoughts?**


	3. a little hope out of nothing

**AN: Don't own. Thank you to all my lovely reviewers; you guys make my day.**

.

.

**::: Chapter 2 :: Hello, Westfield. Without Love, Max :: December 2013 :::**

* * *

_the world may be ending_

_but I'm just beginning_

* * *

.

.

I used to think that Los Angeles had weather, but apparently not. The forecast was mild skies throughout the whole week. In December. You'd think that it'll rain or something, but no. And no matter how I hard I tried, the image of a sunny Christmas was stuck on my mind.

I drive the rented white van with the windows down, listening to my mom read directions out loud off her phone. Being the considerate daughter I am, I'd volunteered to drive since she had bags under her eyes and a slump in her walk. Coupled with the rush and arrangement of our move, she's done enough on my watch.

"Take a right on Palm Avenue," she instructs. I signal and switch lanes, making a smooth right turn.

"Keep driving until you hit Stonebrook, then make a left," she continues.

The street eventually narrows down into one lane and then I signal at the intersection, waiting for my turn. Everything is going fine and dandy until a wayward convertible decides to nearly broadside the passenger's side when it was clearly _my turn_. I slam on the brakes and curse at the driver, who in return shoots me the bird and makes some unpleasant swears.

City of angels, my ass.

"Brush it off, Max. Don't start trailing him, because I'd like to see our house and keep this van in one piece," Maya drawls from behind me.

"Don't worry, I'll do that in my free time later," I joke, internally wishing death and destruction on the knucklehead of a driver. And unfortunately for me, the drive rapidly goes downhill. I miss a turn and make a right instead of a left when I turn back, and we end up driving around a shady looking neighborhood.

Well, shit. You've fucked up, Max. Now some hooligans are going to stop and rob us.

I pull up in a driveway in an attempt to backtrack, but my mom instructs me to drive to the gas station at the end of the block. I comply, and she tells me to park and get off.

"Wait, why? We still have three quarters of gas," I ask, puzzled. My mom runs a hand through light brown locks.

"It's not that, Max. I'll drive," she answers.

I huff indignantly. "I'm not _that_ bad of a driver, am I?" I mean, I'd driven to school with Maya in my old silver Camry ever since I hit seventeen and could drive without an adult. Clean slate; no accidents or tickets. Yet.

There was, however, a time where I'd shown attitude with an officer, but let's not get into that.

My mom shakes her head. "No, it's not that, Max. You're forgetting that I used to live in LA, and I know this area pretty well even after a decade-_don't ask why_-but I do."

Well, okay. I was getting pretty tired of driving for an hour and waiting in traffic on the freeway. I breathe out a "fine" and switch seats with her.

I fall asleep sometime later, as I'm rudely awakened by Maya trying to take a not-so-discreet shot of my sleeping face, no doubt to edit the photo and post it on Facebook.

**x /\/\ x**

We pull into a street with a "Not A Through Street" sign and I'm about to question my mom when I see it. A large cul-de-sac, surrounded by three rows of identical peach two story condos, each building separated by gardens and greenery. I stifle a groan. These better not be part of one of those gated communities; I couldn't handle being all cozy with neighbors. But before I had the chance to confirm my fears with my mom, Maya beat me to it.

"Is this a gated community?"

"Huh? Oh, no. We just share gates and interconnected garages for each building. Nothing more," she answers, as she pulls the van into the right condo complex's long driveway, pressing the gate opener to let us in. She parks in an already open garage with the number 3C in a gold plate. Before she turns off the engine, she smirks at Maya and I in the rear view mirror.

"Remember girls, I get the room with the balcony."

Maya groans and I laugh. "You know us too well."

**x /\/\ x**

I hate stairs. Especially waxed ones.

Back in New York, we'd lived in a classic six apartment, where I'd shared a room with Maya. It felt refreshing to have a room all to myself, where there was no need to listen to music with headphones, no one to eavesdrop on phone conversations.

My room is two doors down from my sister's, separated by a bathroom and a hallway closet. Mine is closest to the stairs, while hers is next to Mom's at the end of the hallway. I had one bay window overlooking the driveway and a slanted ceiling due to the condo's sawtooth roof design. But I'm okay with that; I'd shoved my bed under there when the U-Haul trucks came with our furniture. It wasn't like I could put my dresser or desk there, anyway.

My suitcase lies next to my bed and I'm contemplating whether I should start unpacking. Then a duffel lands at my feet and my sister comes into my line of vision.

"Your socks and underwear," she announces, while taking a quick sweep of my room. "Still not jealous of your bay window and cushioned seats. And to top it off, your room was supposed to be a storage room because the ceiling is too low where your bed is. You're gonna have to try harder to get me to give up my skylight."

"I don't know about that. Who knows if a pervert climbs up and watches you sleep?" I say nonchalantly, schooling my features into a blank expression.

Maya makes a face. "I don't know if I should slap you or be disgusted. Anyway, they're one-way windows."

I snicker. "Yeah, from the _outside in_."

She lunges at me and shoves me down on my bed, mercilessly tickling me.

I laugh until I'm choking on air, and I try to wrench her off me.

"Say Uncle!"

I twist her left arm back and shove her off. "Like Hell."

Maya grins up at me from the waxed wooden floors. "So before you ask, wanna go out to the library? Our internet isn't up yet and Mom went out for takeout."

"Why not? I'll get the keys, you tell me where it is."

**x /\/\ x**

I end up walking around the teens section while Maya sits at a table at the computer section, hogging our shared laptop. I didn't need to ask about what she was searching for, as she soon showed me a blurred picture of Northern Lights.

"They don't have a lot of pictures of the band," she groused, "I'm tired of seeing Aurora Borealis over and over again."

"Tough luck," I say, but she grabs my arm.

"Wait, look. The only good picture of the lead singer!"

It's a picture of the typical blond Californian surfer dude, complete with baby blue eyes. I wouldn't know, but there must be hundreds of them lining the beaches on sunny days with their beach blonde of the week.

"So does this lead singer have a name?"

She smiles. "Dylan Connor."

"How about 'Ken doll reincarnate'?" I hear her soft huff as I walk away.

So wandering around looking for novels is what I'm settling for the time being, since not having money to apply for a library card is ruled out.

I pick up a blue book with a white bird on the cover. _Mockingjay_.

"Are you borrowing that book?"

A soft voice interrupts my thoughts as I jerk my head up, meeting sharp green eyes. They belong to a redhead with typical brand name clothes, but there's something about her that I can't place.

"Actually, I'm not," I answer, holding the book towards her.

She takes her book and scrutinizes me for a quick second. And for an unfathomable reason, I don't cross my arms and feel threatened.

"You're new here, aren't you?" Even though it's a question, it comes out more like a statement.

"That obvious, huh?"

She throws me a half-smile. "Not a lot of people from Westfield High would willingly come to the library and seem interested in books."

So she's observant and perceptive. _Respect_.

"I'm Max," I find myself saying.

"Lissa," she replies, the odd half smile never leaving her face.

"What grade?"

"Junior."

"Me too."

Lissa looks as if she wants to say something else but changes her mind. "Good luck tomorrow, Max."

I groan and she giggles. "Too soon, huh?"

"Yeah," I say. "I need at least a week to prepare for war."

"Don't worry about it, Max. I've been around here for all my life; you can probably handle the occasional jerk and whatnot."

_Around all my life_.

Something clicks. "All your life?"

She blinks. "Yeah."

"What do you know about Nicholas Ride?"

Lissa tilts her head and studies me for a minute, green eyes critical. Something flashes across her face so quickly that I'm not even sure about what happened. Then seemingly satisfied about what she found, she inclines her head to the end of the row.

"So?" I ask once we're safely out of range for prying eyes and ears.

"What do you want to know?" I'm taken aback at that; I was expecting a mini biography coming from her, but guess not.

"Well...did he really live here?" Lame, Max, lame.

She grins. "Of all the false information crammed in Google about the band, yes, that fact happens to be true."

"Attended Westfield High?"

"Mhmm. When I was a freshman, he was a senior. But at the time, he wasn't in a band yet. He'd play some instruments, but that's it."

I tried to ask one more question but drew a blank. "I think that's it."

She raises a perfectly trimmed brow. "That interrogation went pretty quickly."

I laugh. "I'm not that interested in them. That's my sister."

"Oh?" Lissa looks like she wants to say more, but she glances at the clock. "Crap. I have to go home now."

"Don you want a ride? I can drive you."

She waves my offer away. "Thanks, but I can walk. It's not that far."

Lissa notices my dubious look at the darkening sky. "It's not a problem, Max. Really."

"Okay," I say, letting it go.

She tucks the book under her arm and walks over to the checkout desk. "I'll let you borrow it if you don't have your library card by next week. See you tomorrow, Max!"

You can't let anything slip by with that girl.

I walk back to where Maya sits with the laptop, sliding into the chair next to her.

"Still Internet stalking them?"

Ignoring the jab, she turns to me. "There's little to nothing on them! I mean, they have a wiki page, but it's like a paragraph long and lists their useless info like when they formed and about their record company. Their band page has only the home page; the other links all say under construction!" Maya sighs in aggravation. "For a debuting band, they should have more info."

I shrug. "Maybe they just don't have the time to do all these things. I mean, writing lyrics, rehearsing and recording songs do take a while, you know."

"Point taken."

She closes the window and I'm greeted by a new, slightly blurry wallpaper of Northern Lights.

If I was drinking water, I would've choked and spit all over the table. "Change it back. I use this laptop too, you know."

"Too bad," Maya says languidly. "You can make a new user and start from there."

"That's too much work. I'd have to import everything."

"Like I said, too bad. But just look at them. Ari Baxter, James Griffiths, Nicholas Ride, and Dylan Connor." The last name is breathed out in a sigh and I cringe visibly. I hope I'm not going to lose her to the empire of obsessed fangirls.

But now when I think about it, Ride looks oddly familiar and I don't know why; something about his messy black hair and impossibly dark hair seems so familiar. The Ari dude was nothing special: sandy brown hair, hazel eyes, and with a skull tattoo on his left arm; James was a pale strawberry blond with blue eyes. And of course, Connor was still an eyesore.

"So who was that girl you were taking to?" Maya asks, changing the topic, looking at me pointedly.

"This junior who goes to Westfield. Her name's Lissa. She's pretty nice."

"Huh. Your social skills must be improving; making a new friend that quickly," she jokes.

I slap her lightly on the shoulder.

_"What do you want to know?"_

"Oh and another thing..."

"Spit it out, Max."

"Keep your voice down and don't panic," I hiss, "She knew Nicholas Ride."

Maya jerks upright. "What?!"

A passing librarian gives us a dirty look. I give her a "sorry" look and she sweeps by, heading to the opposite corner of the room to interrupt other rowdy teens.

"What did she say?"

"Well, he really did live here and he's apparently four years older than me. She knew him when she was a freshman."

Maya looks disappointed. "That's it?"

I remember the calculating look in Lissa's eyes, posture friendly, yet guarded. The flash of _something _in those jade greens_. _I _know_ there's more.

But instead, I say "Yeah. That's it."

**x /\/\ x**

Tomorrow came faster than I would have liked. Ten hours isn't a lot of eight of them is spent sleeping.

But anyway, I'm not a morning person. Maya had to literally drag my unresponsive body off my bed and into the bathroom, telling me to "try and make my ugly face prettier" while she chose my clothes. Apparently, arriving in a casual crew neck and jeans didn't sit well of her "make a lasting impression plan" she'd told me yesterday night. There was absolutely no way in Hell, Heaven, or Middle Earth she was going to force me into something lacy or a dress, so I'd brushed her off and told her to go shove it up her ass. But Maya's just as stubborn as me, so I anticipated a surprise from her in the morning.

I didn't except her to disable my alarm clock so she could catch me in Max Zombie Mode, where I'd be much easier to sway and agree to her demands.

After I'd washed my face, combed my hair, and brushed my teeth, I head back to my room, only to find my suitcase completely devoid of any clothing and my clothes strewn all over my unmade bed. Maya's all dressed up with a gray off the shoulder top, white skirt, and black boots.

"Well? Find what you're going to make me wear?"

Maya tosses me my white halter top and a beige cardigan. "Here."

"I think I'm gonna need pants—"

She tosses more clothes aside and comes up with ripped blue skinny jeans.

"Shoes?"

Maya bites her lip.

"If you're going to make me wear heels, I swear I will end you."

"I was going to let you choose, to be honest."

My disposition switches from angry lion to calm. "My gray high tops, please."

**x /\/\ x**

"Hurry up, Max! Only ten more minutes!" Maya's sitting shotgun, and she's been counting down since we'd left home. My nerves are more than frazzled.

I make a sharp turn and veer into an vacant parking space that was strangely empty at this time of hour, but I brush off the feeling that I've done something wrong away and collect my backpack.

"Let's go."

We scramble out of the car and easily blend in with the rest of the students.

Westfield High. Home of the Wolves. Location: Hell. Weather: dull and reeking of upcoming tests. Population: Geniuses or morons. Either or. Survivability level: Low.

The one redeemable quality was the architecture. It was the poster picture for a modern looking one; irregular cement and glass boxes piled on top of each other to create buildings. I slow don't and Maya pushes me to keep the tide of morning traffic.

"You can take a picture later, Max."

Maya and I rush up the steps as we make our way to the office.

"Hi, we're new students, may we have our schedules?" Maya asks the old lady sweetly all in one breath.

"Names?"

"Maxine and Maya Martinez."

"One moment, please." She ruffles through a drawer and hands us yellow papers.

"Must feel weird, moving all the way here from New York."

"Yeah, but we're trying our best to adapt," I say.

"Well, have a good first day now. Good luck!"

We exit out to the main hallway and I notice it's gone deathly silent. Then a clear, commanding voice echoes from the entrance doors.

"Who parked in _my_ parking spot?"

Well. I had an answer to _that_ already.

.

.

* * *

_though everyone would rather watch me fall_

* * *

.

.

**AN: Mhmm. Stuff starts picking up now-I know, finally.**

**What's Lissa's deal? Ha. Find out later. People don't go around telling secrets like test answers.**

**I think it's kinda funny that she has like two pages of screen time in the books and she's one of the most hated characters in the series-all because she kissed Fang.**

**Wanna drop a review? They inspire me (:**


	4. give me a break, whatever that means

**AN: Don't own. Thanks to all my reviewers, readers, and lurkers. **

.

.

**::: Chapter 3 :: I Think I'm Dying. Sincerely, Max :: December 2013 :::**

* * *

_you can try and touch the sky_

_dream away all your fears_

* * *

.

.

First day and I'm already got myself involved in drama. Is there anything I can't do?

I walk out into the middle of the hallway and there's a brunette in Prada, hands on her hips with a look on her face that screamed business.

Luckily for her, I had business too.

"Can somebody fess up already, or do I have to repeat myself?"

Dear god. And I thought these kinds of girls only existed in movies.

I stride over to her with Maya trailing somewhere behind me. This was so not turning out to a good day. I'd had pretty shitty days before, but I could tell that this one takes the prize.

"Spare our ears the pain and please don't. Was the car a silvery Camry?"

Her nose wrinkles. "Don't know about the Camry part, but was silver and ugly."

Oh Hell no. Nobody insults my car. Not on my watch. Claiming a parking space as yours was one thing, but insulting the car that parked there?

I step up until I'm face to face with her and stare right into dark brown eyes, fully aware that the entire hall was full of whispering.

"Listen, my car is probably a thousand times prettier than you. And last time I checked, there was no name on the parking spot, so no, it's not your spot."

She sneers at me. "New student, I'm guessing-"

"Brilliant deduction," I say, cutting her off. "So yes, I'm new, I didn't know it was 'your' spot, but if I did I wouldn't give a damn either way."

Her eyes narrow and she's about to say something but a boy with platinum blond hair steps up from behind her and sends a disdainful look my way.

"I'd suggest you park your car somewhere else tomorrow," he says with a lofty tone.

If there's one thing you should know about me, it's that I don't take orders well-especially with the snobs of highschool.

"I'd appreciate it if you don't tell me what to do," I snap back with the same tone. "Now excuse me, I have better things to do than stand here and argue about parking spaces."

His ice blue eyes flash and he growls. Clearly people have been letting him get his way too many times; it's about time someone showed him his place for once.

I turn to the brunette. "Put your dog on a leash and maybe he'll stop growling like an animal."

The hall is dead silent.

I turn to leave, but the blond is in front of me again. Keeping my face blank, I look up at him cooly and motion for him to get the Hell out of my way.

"Wanna fight?"

_O-Kay_. I was not expecting that—but then again, expect the unexpected, I guess.

I look him up and and down and pretended to think about it. _Remember Max_, I chant mentally, _you do not want to get suspended on the first fucking day of school_.

"I'm sorry, but I don't fight girls," I say calmly.

Someone shoves me from behind and I crash sideways to the lockers.

"You bitch!"

The brunette is back, slamming me into the metal, hands fisted in my cardigan, but I shove her off. I catch her incoming fist and twist it behind her, using the momentum to slam her into the lockers.

Hey, when you spend enough time hanging around in lower Manhattan and Five Points, you're bound to know how to fight.

"Me, a bitch? At least I don't go around calling people one," I hiss. I'm about to let her go when someone pulls me back and stands between me and the girl.

_Lissa_.

"Marian Janssen, I expected better behavior from the Vice President of the student council. Fighting a student and dealing the first blow. I'm disappointed."

She turns to me. "Taunting and fighting back? I hope to never see this from you again, Max."

"And for the rest of you, get to class," she says in a no-nonsense tone. "There's only a minute left."

The crowd slowly disperses; the blonde boy helps Marian up and she shoots me a glare of absolute loathing.

"See you around, Max." My name is spit out like poison and the boy glances back at me, hatred evident in twin pools of ice.

I roll my eyes at him and I turn to Lissa. "In my defense-"

She waves off my flimsy rebuttal. "Don't worry about it. We should get to class. You're in my Physics and Trigonometry class; I'll walk you. And Maya, your Chem class is down the hallway and it's the fifth door to the right down that corridor."

Maya looks like she's about to say something along the lines of _how'd you know my schedule_, but the bell finally rings and she runs off in the direction Lissa directed her to.

"Before you ask about me knowing about your schedules, being Student Body President has its perks," Lissa answers my unspoken question as she leads me up the stairs to Physics. "And for Marian and Omega, it's best if you stay out of their way for now."

I snort in disbelief. "What can they possibly do? The worst Marian can do is get to school early and nab the parking spot."

"It's not Marian I'm worried about. It's Omega." I think back to absolute fury in ice blue eyes. _Wanna fight?_

"Whatever," I say, pushing the matter to the back of my head. The less I see of the two, the better.

And with that, we walk in to Physics, five minutes late and counting to a scowling man in plaid.

Today was rapidly going downhill.

**x /\/\ x**

"Oh Max, I love your halter top! Where did you get it? Oh my god, we should go shopping together someday! How about this weekend? We could totally buy some new clothes, you know!"

How she said that all in one breath, I'll never know.

I flash a polite smile at her and nod, going back to my lunch of overcooked spaghetti and meatballs. I hate school lunches, but hey, when you're hungry everything tastes good.

"You'll get used to Nudge," JJ says to me. "It only takes time."

I grin at her. "And the occasional pair of earplugs, I'm guessing?"

We ignore Nudge's huffs and slap hands under the table, and I inwardly congratulate myself on my effort on making new friends.

_I'm Jennifer Joy, but only call me that if you want a death wish,_ she'd said. _I'm Maximum Martinez, but call me Max and we'll get along just fine_, I'd replied.

Thus was the quirky start of a friendship.

"Don't worry, Monique, we'll make plans this weekend," JJ sing-songs.

Nudge rolls her eyes. "I'll forgive you for calling my real name in favor of needing you guys to carry my shopping bags at the mall."

"Don't kill each other yet," Lissa interrupts us with my sister in tow. "JJ, Nudge, meet Maya, Max's sister."

Nudge gives Maya an appraising look. "You have a nice fashion sense."

My sister smiles sweetly and I immediately know that she has something up her sleeve. "Then I guess you liked Max's as well, since I was the one who chose her outfit for her."

"Oh my god, really? I was just asking her about her halter top, where she'd gotten it, and stuff like that! You know what, you are officially my partner in all things fashion."

As Maya and Nudge started chatting, JJ motions for me to show her my schedule.

Physics, Spanish, US History, Trigonometry, AP Lang, and Journalism.

"Oh, you have AP Lang and Journalism with me," she says, handing me back my schedule. "You like writing?"

"Yeah, I do," I say. "I was an editor for my school newspaper back in New York."

"Nice."

"However, Max fails at math," Lissa butts in, shooting me an evil grin. Maya and Nudge halt their chatter and listen to Lissa, deadly curious.

"Don't you dare," I hiss at her, thinking of my three wrong answers in a pop Trig quiz. I had no intention of embarrassing myself again.

"Do tell us," JJ says, clearly intent on teasing me after this.

And with that, my lunch passed pleasantly with thinly veiled threats at Lissa and laughter from my sister and newfound friends.

**x /\/\ x**

I nearly drop my books at the sight of my car after school.

"They slashed my tires?!" My voice is shrill and unbelieving and I'm on the verge of exploding. "I'm going to skin them alive when I see them tomorrow!"

The inch-long diagonal slashes stare mockingly up at me, daring me to do just that.

"Those fuckers," Maya seethes. "What car does Marian have? She'll have an early Christmas gift tomorrow."

Lissa, Nudge, and JJ run up to Maya and I.

"They slashed all four?" JJ asks, looking at my pitiful tires.

I breathe in slowly from my nose. "Just the back tires. I think she would've slashed all four but ran out of time during lunch."

Lissa stands next to my car, jade greens assessing the damage. "This is the work of Omega with Marian's plan written all over it. But the thing is, we don't have substantial proof that it was them. Our claims wouldn't work on the vandalism policy of the school."

I kick at invisible rocks as I circle around my car. "Great. On top of paying for new tires, I don't have proof and I will be suspended for sure if I take matters into my own hands. And I have to walk to school and back now."

I swear, I'd never wanted to strangle anyone as much as I did now.

Nudge walks up to me and places her hand on my shoulder. "I can give you rides, if you want; I already drive Lissa and JJ. I have enough room for you and Maya. Just tell me where you guys live and we'll be all set, all right?"

I look up, touched by her offer. "Would you really?"

Nudge pushes curly black locks out of her eyes and giggles. "Of course, but you'll have to chip in for the gas bills."

"No problem," I say. "Now I just have to call a tow truck."

**x /\/\ x**

I sit on Maya's bed after dinner, half-heartily reading _Oedipus Rex_ while Maya sits at her desk with the laptop, fingers typing away on an essay.

"You got a report on your first day?"

She shrugs and swivels around on her chair, facing me. "It's an analysis on the first half of _Catcher in the Rye_, which I finished back in New York."

"Lucky you. On the other hand, I have to catch up on ten chapters of this book about a king killing his father and marrying his mother."

Maya coughs and turns around, back to her unfinished report.

"Hey My, I never got to see your schedule."

"Hold on a sec."

Maya reaches for her binder and pulls out a neatly folded square of yellow paper, handing it to me. Chemistry, English Honors, Algebra II, Spanish, World History, and Instruments. My eyes linger on the last one, and I look up to question my sister.

"Instruments?"

"I still want to practice on my guitar skills."

Oh. So it was this.

"You know mom offered to buy you an actual guitar so you could stop borrowing the school's."

"Yeah, but you know. Shit happens."

Jeb, Ella, the divorce, the move. I hear it, and I know.

"But don't worry, they're loaning me one tomorrow. I just need to warn Nudge that she's gonna have to clear her trunk of shoes to make room for it."

"Okay," I say, not really knowing what else to comment on.

"What are you gonna tell mom?" Maya asks a minute later.

"Huh?"

"Your lovely car parked in the second garage, with slashed tires facing the wall?"

I fist Maya's comforter with one hand, not really sure what to say. Mom was going to have a heart attack when she found out, and I had absolutely no intention of letting her know-she had too many things to worry about already. I had money stashed in the bottom drawer of my desk, but it wasn't enough to cover two hundred dollars' worth of damage.

Yet.

"I'm not going to," I say. "I'll just pretend that we're using the car since she goes to work before us and I'll use my own money to pay up. I'll get everything fixed when Christmas comes. There's no need to worry Mom about it."

Maya doesn't reply and all I hear are the tap-tap-taps from the keyboard.

**x /\/\ x**

A week and a half flies by and I'd grown accustomed to life in Westfield. Maya and I wait for Nudge's red Honda at the street corner every day before school, and school itself was quickly become a routine-classes were boring, lunch was always amusing-and I only ever saw Marian or Omega during passing period, but if I did, they'd purposely ask me about my car.

Only the thought of how they were totally not worth it was keeping me from bashing Marian's head against the lockers for a second time.

"One more week until Christmas break!" Maya remarks as we head over to Nudge's car after school. "I can't wait!"

She puts her guitar in the trunk and I turn to her.

"Already making plans?" I say dryly. I'd had an earful of Nudge's "Christmas shopping" plans at lunch already.

"No. That's Nudge's job," she replies as she opens the car doors and scoots over to the center seat next to JJ.

"I heard my name!" Nudge remarks from the drivers seat.

"You must be hearing things, Nudge."

Nudge glances suspiciously at us from the rear view mirror as she backs out, but lets it go, one hand turning on the radio.

"...And our next song is quite a hit, really. It's been climbing charts since Tuesday and it's still rising steadily-quite a feat for a debuting band..."

Maya learns forward. "Turn up the volume!" she practically yells at Lissa. JJ shoots Maya a glance, questioning her sanity, but Lissa obliges.

"...This is "Young", single from the band Northern Lights!"

"Oh my god!" Maya squeals. "Dylan Connor!"

_you and I are young_

_what makes it wrong for us to fall in love_

Lissa turns around in her seat to face me. "I don't know about 'Dylan Connor', but I think this song is pretty good for a debuting band."

_would you love me_

_if I was crazy_

_cause girl I'm going crazy for you_

Okay well yeah. At least their lyrics didn't talk about drugs or money.

_because we're never gonna be as young_

_as we are tonight_

_we'll let the world know that we're alive_

I sit with my head leaning on the window, quietly listening to the song while Maya just sat in awe. I was just waiting for it to end to see Maya burst into tears, download the song into her iPod and blast it on repeat for the next twenty-four hours when we got home.

The song does end and Maya screams in frustration.

"For all you fans out there, Northern Lights is touring after New Years! So all you lucky Californians, there's your chance to see them live on their state tour."

Maya screams in delight now. "Oh my god. I need to get home now."

"Me too!"

"Nudge?!" JJ and I yell at the same time. "You too?"

Nudge giggles and I sink back into my seat. "What about your thoughts, Lissa?"

I see her shoulders rise and fall in front of me. "Bands aren't really my thing," she says, voice soft. I raise a brow an I'm about to question her but Nudge pulls up in front of my condo.

"Come on Max, scoot your butt out of the car now!"

I sigh and make a mental note to ask Lissa about it tomorrow, as I scramble out, Maya right on my heels.

"Bye Nudge! Drive safely!"

We wave as she drives off, and Maya practically skips to our door-and crashes into a blonde girl with baby blue eyes.

"Ow!"

"Oh my god I'm so sorry! I didn't see you!"

Well obviously. If you did see her you wouldn't crash into her.

The blonde girl brushes herself off. "No problem. Are you the new neighbors?"

Maya nods. "I'm Maya Martinez, and that"-she points to me-"is my sister, Max."

"I'm Angel Walker. I have a brother, but he's still at school."

"Westfield High?" I ask.

She shakes her head, blonde curls bouncing around. "At Westfield Middle. He's an eighth grader, and I'm a seventh."

"Oh. Okay. Which building do you guys live in?"

She points to a apartment one door away from ours. "In 3A."

"You guys have a nice garden," Maya remarks. I think back to the perfectly preened bushes and flowers and agree.

Angel giggles. "Yeah, my mom's big on gardening. I have to go now, so see you guys around!"

"Bye!" Maya and I watch as she disappears back into her house, then walking up to ours. "Tomorrow's Friday! Another week's done and oh wait-I have a Chem test tomorrow."

I roll my eyes as I open the door. "Just think of Northern Lights and you'll survive."

.

.

* * *

_and know that hope's a light in your chest_

* * *

.

.

**AN: Sorry for the late update, but I was kinda out of it this week. School is a pain.**

**Song is Young by The Summer Set.**

**Wanna drop a review? They inspire me (:**


	5. go on and touch, don't think too deep in

**AN: I don't own Max Ride. A million thanks to my reviewers. You guys never fail to make my day :D**

.

.

**::: Chapter 4 :: I'm Six Feet Under. Yours Truly, Max :: December 2013 :::**

* * *

_if you wish for love_

_make sure to ask that it will last_

* * *

.

.

"Oh my god, I am absolutely positively sure that I failed my Chem test. I mean, rate laws and reactions? I don't need to know what's zero, first, or second order for life! And Mr. Hallman doesn't curve scores! I'm going to die. I just know it."

I take another bite out of my slice of pizza, quietly listening to Maya rant about her suffering grade in Chemistry. I close my eyes and send a silent message to whatever higher being there was.

_Please, don't make her rant throughout the entire lunch period for the sake of my ears and sanity._

When Maya rants, it's worse than Nudge talking.

"It isn't like I'm going to be a Chem major. I hate science so much. I just wish we only have to take one year of science. Biology was easy, at least."

Nudge pats her back. "There, there. That's okay; when I grow up I'm going to be the head of a fashion company and you can be my CEO."

She pauses for a minute and thinks. "Lissa can be my head marketing person, JJ can be my advertising agent, and Max...what can Max be?"

I shake my head at her antics. "I'd rather find another job. But if I get fired, I'll make sure to come back to you for a last resort."

Lissa bursts out laughing. "Feeling the love, Nudge?"

Nudge puts on a mock-hurt expression. "One day, Max, you'll see the merits of the fashion industry. I'll become famous and you'll be like '_Man, I wish I took her offer_.'"

I roll my eyes. "We'll see, Nudge."

"Oh guys, I forgot to tell you guys yesterday but my shift at Startop got changed from morning to afternoon, so we'll have to reschedule the time for the mall," Lissa says apologetically. "Do you guys want to go tomorrow instead of Sunday?"

Instead of exploding, Nudge shrugs. "Let's keep it on Sunday and go in the morning. After that, we can hang out in the shop and eat takeout in the back room. No biggie."

"Sounds good," JJ agrees. "My parents are celebrating their anniversary at some fancy restaurant on Sunday night, so they won't mind me being out all night."

"Cute," Lissa remarks, and I stand up.

"I'm going to throw away my trash," I say. "Do you guys have any-"

And just like that, trays are shoved at me all at once.

"Thanks, Max."

"So you _are_ capable of doing nice things, after all."

I snort at Maya. "For those that are worthy."

There are feigned gasps from the table.

"You're throwing away mine, so that must mean that I'm worthy. I'm touched, sister dear."

I roll my eyes. "Just this once. Be thankful."

As I walk in the direction of the trash cans, someone shoulders me. There's sandy brown hair, cold hazel eyes, Prada, and a sneer.

Marian.

She dumps an empty salad container on my stack of trays. "Thanks, Max, for doing your job. It suits you nicely. Very nicely."

I resist the urge to toss it back at her and instead, I plaster on a fake smile. "You do your job of being a bitch very nicely too, Marian. You should get a promotion, in fact."

Damn. If there wasn't a passing lunch lady in that moment, Marian would've jumped me, I swear. Her face was a lovely shade of rage and tomato; in that moment I wouldn't have cared if a fight did break out.

I dump my trays and Marian stalks off with the rest of the gang running up to me.

"Max, that was gold!"

I smirk and shrug. "She makes it too easy," I say nonchalantly, "and she was practically asking for it."

The bell rings and we split to our classes. JJ and I walk to AP Lang, still laughing over what had happened.

"A salad container? You'd think that's all she has for lunch."

"Who knows? She probably takes a bite and says 'There. I ate one piece, why am I not losing weight yet'?"

**x /\/\ x**

Saturdays were my favorite day of the week. Surprise, no?

To me-along with most of the general population-Saturdays meant waking up at noon, procrastinating the day away, long showers at night, and staying up until Sunday. But unless you had a jam packed weekend schedule, procrastination was not an option.

So that leads to me sitting at my window seat, soaking up the late afternoon warmth, all the while taking sloppy Cornell notes with commentary on _Oedipus Rex._

_Oedipus sends Creon to the Oracle of Apollo for a way to lift the plague in Thebes, Creon reports that the murderer of Laius must be found. Can't stand the irony here; there's enough in my life..._

_Oedipus tries to find the murderer, which basically translates to him trying to find himself. Good luck with that, cause it ain't that hard to find yourself..._

It felt like a sin to work on Saturdays. Or maybe that's just me.

My door flies open and Maya rushes in, decked out in shorts and a plain blue T-shirt.

"Max! Are you busy?"

"I don't know, Maya. I'm just sitting here reading and doing my homework. Does that count as 'busy'?"

Maya snorts. "Let's go to the park."

I shut my book and stare at her. "Now?"

"When else? We don't have PE anymore thanks to our limited schedules, and if we don't exercise we'll get fat."

That was true. It was a pity that the one class that was almost impossible to fail wasn't on my schedule. I missed being able to run and play sports.

"Okay. Just give me ten minutes to get ready."

Maya nods and heads out of my room. I head over to my drawers for appropriate clothing and change into a tank and basketball shorts.

I tie my hair into a ponytail as I slowly walk down the stairs, making sure not to slip on freshly waxed wood.

"Did you tell Mom yet?" I call, walking into the kitchen for a drink of water.

"Yeah. Texted her and she said to head back as soon as the sun starts setting. You ready?"

I rinse the glass and nod. "Let's head out."

The walk to the park is spent in comfortable silence. I walk beside my sister who softly hums a song that I'm not familiar with, taking time to actually pay attention to the scenery. When I would have to go to a park to see trees and grass back in Manhattan, it was all around me in lawns and parkways. It was also nice to walk in peace without bustling crowds rushing to and fro.

Most people would still have trouble adjusting after two weeks of moving to a foreign place. I was beginning to like it. Sure, I'd miss hanging out in the multitude of shops in downtown New York after school, but it's the quiet simplicity here that's drawing me in. Instead of wreaking havoc in metropolis malls, I've hung out at Lissa's coffee shop with the rest of the gang.

I'm so absorbed in my thoughts that I don't realize that Maya has lead us to the south parking lot of the school, right next to the softball field.

"Uhh, My? This is the school, not the park."

"Last time I checked it was the school, too. But we're taking a shortcut," she says, hands on her hips. "Tips and tricks of the average Westfield student, volume two."

I don't question her, following her down the slope and across the field. There's a high stone wall at the edge of the property, but Maya veers to the left to the vast patch of shrubbery behind the bleachers.

"There's no fence her of anything; slip through the willow tree."

I do and I'm met with a back lot with dry, yellow grass, graffiti-sprayed walls and the occasional boulder, broken furniture, and the impression that this was were people would cut class and smoke weed.

Maya confirms this as she steps up behind me. "Welcome to the den of druggies," she says, sweeping her arm around the area. "Funny how school facility didn't discover this area yet."

I glance at a broken table complete with crude drawings of genitals. "Yeah. I wonder."

"We should go now; this place is creeping me out."

I sprint after Maya as she makes a beeline to the other end, where a low, rusted chainlink fence is.

"Jump it, then we'll be home free," my sister says, "This leads to the playscape."

We emerge in the far corner of the children's playground, and we quickly walk out to the main running path. The soft blue rubber greets my sneakers and Maya grins at me.

"We'll jog three laps for warmup first, okay?"

"Whatever you say."

**x /\/\ x**

Sleeping in felt like such a reward for the slight burn in my calves from yesterday. But of course, all good things come to an end, and I was no exception.

"Max!"

There's a pounding on my door, and then it flies open-no surprise, it's been happening lately.

"Max, get your lazy ass up already! Nudge is picking us up at ten thirty; it's already ten!"

"Five more minutes..."

Her footsteps stomp across my floor, and I reflexively clutch at my blankets, anticipating her next move.

But my sister's just like me, so I think she knows what I'm doing, too.

She yanks my covers off, and since I'm hanging on to them, she drags my sheets to the floor. My back is met with icy hardness and I can't say I'm surprised. I sit up and rub the sleepiness out of my eyes, squinting at her, all dressed up in a white blouse, jean skirt, and leggings.

"Really?"

"Good morning to you too, Max. It's such a lovely day today, so why don't you get a move on."

I stand up, ignoring the mild protest my calves were giving me. "Who shoved a stick up your ass this morning?"

Maya facepalms. "Twenty-five minutes left, Max. And you know Nudge is going to arrive ten minutes early."

Oh. Right.

Maya shakes her head and sweeps out of my room, no doubt texting the others that Max was being a difficult little kid.

Deciding on a I Heart NY crewneck and black skinny jeans, I hastily change and run into the bathroom, combing tangled dirty blond strands.

"Morning, Mom!" I call as I rush down the stairs, where she sits at the table with a bagel and a cup of coffee.

"Morning, Max. There's waffles in the toaster; help yourself."

I hug my mom and rush into the kitchen for the aforementioned food. I've only managed to finish one when incessant honking sounds from outside and Maya flies down the stairs.

"Nudge's here!"

I grab extra waffles and wrap them in an napkin, slipping on my Converse at the door.

"Bye Mom!"

Nudge's red Honda sits in the driveway, right behind my forlorn Camry. Maya opens the door and we slide in our regular seats. The drive is smooth and filled with quiet conversations, and fortunately, I manage to eat my breakfast without anyone noticing. Unfortunately, Maya shits in her seat and JJ spies me taking a bite.

"Are you planning to share?"

Lissa turns around in the passenger seat, green eyes focused on my stash of golden goodness.

"Waffles!"

Nudge glances at the rear view mirror. "You were eating in my car all this time?"

I shrug. "No crumbs were wasted on your leather seats."

JJ takes this opportunity to snatch a waffle, Lissa following suit. I glare at Maya.

"No help?"

"You're on your own, sis."

**x /\/\ x**

I've always hated shopping and nothing was ever going to change my opinion on that. After five hours of walking around in a three-story mall decked out in pre-holiday cheer serving as a bag carrier, my feet were about to fall off.

The only redeemable part of this trip was lunch at the food court; food never failed me.

"One more stores and we'll leave, okay? Don't worry, Lissa, you won't be late for your shift!"

Nudge and Maya rush into Wet Seal while Lissa and JJ take a seat on either side of me on a bench. I drop all the bags in relief, breathing out a sigh.

"I like buying things as much as the next girl, but Nudge takes it to another level," Lissa says, pointedly looking at the five bags on my right side.

"I feel for you, Max," JJ pats my back. "I've only bought three new pairs of shorts so far."

And as for me, I didn't buy anything for the sake of car repairs. Besides, my mom was probably going to drag along me for Christmas shopping anyways, where I didn't have to use my own money.

"Hey, they're back. That was fast," Lissa's voice interrupts my thoughts.

Nudge runs up with a frown. "They ran out of the jeans I wanted."

I shake my head. "You have plenty of other pairs," I say, eying the blue bag at my feet that held three pairs.

"No, you don't understand! They were a unique pair of stonewashed jeans, and..."

I tune her out from there. Luckily, Lissa comes to my rescue.

"Can we go now? My shift starts in an hour."

**x /\/\ x**

"Your move, JJ."

I sit in the back room with the rest of the gang, playing a game of Texas Hold'Em. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafts over, and suddenly I want a cup.

Lissa pokes her head in. "Does anyone want to help me clean up? My shift's done."

I stand up, throwing my sucky hand on the table and follow her out. "I volunteer as tribute."

"I'm under the impression that you were losing," Lissa says as she wipes down the counters while I sweep the floor.

"I wouldn't say losing..."

"Right. Because Maximum Martinez never loses."

I finish sweeping the tiled floor and Nudge walks out of the back room, followed by JJ and Maya.

"Hey guys, we're going to get takeout for dinner from Panda Express. What do you want?"

I turn to Maya. "Noodles and orange chicken."

"Fried rice and you can choose a side for me."

"Got it. Pay me back later." The entrance bells chimes as the doors swing shut and Lissa flips the OPEN sign to CLOSED.

I sit down at a table, while Lissa takes the seat across from me, facing the door.

"How's it like, working here?"

She taps her fingers on the white table and glances around the little coffee shop. It was homey, all right. It looked like a little cottage from the inside, with little cabinets and dark wood paneling.

Lissa stares at the '_Welcome To Startop Coffee Bar_' was painted on top of the chalkboard menu before answering me.

"I like it. It's fun and people aren't that demanding here; most people are regulars. And besides, this place has history."

Damn. I never would have thought to add 'cryptic as Hell' to her personality.

"What do you mean by that?"

The soft half-smile is there on her face again, the same one from when I first met her at the library.

"It's a long story."

The entrance bell chimes and someone steps in. Nudge was back so soon?

"I'm sorry, but the cafe is closed now, sir," Lissa says, staring at the person who just entered.

There's a low laugh.

"Not even a 'Hi', Lissa?"

Now, I could be imagining it, but that voice was familiar. Seriously familiar.

I see Lissa freeze in front of me and I turn around, wondering what this is all about.

"Hey, if you're threatening my friend..."

My voice dies in my throat as I take in a guy dressed in all black with shaggy hair.

His dark eyes meet mine and he tilts his head, quietly assessing me.

There's a lot of things I want to say, but what actually tumbles out stuns the three of us.

"You're the airport guy."

.

.

* * *

_'cause I'm one big heartbreaker_

* * *

.

.

**AN: For any people out there wondering about my update schedule, I update on weekends, mostly on Saturdays. BUT if I'm not really busy (highly unlikely, but whatevs) and have some free time, I'll post on Wednesdays. Keep that in mind, lovely readers :3**

**Now that everything's said and done, wanna drop a review? They motivate me and cause indescribable happiness to bloom in my heart.**


	6. no one here is saying that it's wrong

**AN: disclaimed**

**HOLY CRAP it's been more than a month oh my gods guys I am so sorry. But yeah, school is a major pain and I had a horrible case of writer's block—I'm not even kidding I tried to write oneshots but I ended up scrapping them halfway through.**

.

.

**::: Chapter 5 :: The World Hates Me. Cheers, Max :: December 2013 :::**

* * *

_please don't give me words_

_that you don't mean_

* * *

.

.

The right side of his mouth quirks up in a smile as he takes me in. I'm suddenly all-too-aware that I'm in a pair of scruffy black jeans and a faded crewneck.

"Luggage girl."

I cross my arms. "So much for trying to forget that little incident." Embarrassment aside, I still couldn't wrap my mind about the fact that Nicolas Ride had watched me threaten inanimate objects and was now here, right in front of me in the flesh, in a coffee shop.

Romantics might call it fate. I call it a sorry case of bad luck.

"You've met before?"

I turn back to Lissa, meeting her questioning look straight on. "Technically speaking, yes. But at that time I had absolutely no idea that he was Nicholas _Freaking_ Ride in Northern Lights."

Said man walks over and grabs an extra chair, positioning himself to my right. "She's just mad because I was one of the lucky people to witness her moment of insanity."

I lean back. "Whatever, Ride. What's in the past is in the past, right?"

Now I could be seeing things, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't shadows from the windows that made his face darken for a fraction of a second before a smirk is plastered on his face again.

"Really, Max? Last name basis?"

"Nicholas is too freaking formal and saying 'Nick' doesn't fit you—I think of Santa Claus." I flash a sickly sweet grin at his faintly amused look. "I'm touched that you remembered my name, though."

He leans forward, elbows propped up on the table. "Don't flatter yourself, _Martinez_," he shoots back. My question of how the hell he knew my surname is on the tip of my tongue before he jerks his head to the whiteboard used to advertise discounts on drinks.

And there, written in messy black marker scrawl, are the words _Maximum Martinez, fifty percent off._

"Oh, that girl is just asking for it," I mutter as I rub my temples. I love my sister and all, but she was going to wake up on the roof one day.

"So why are you here, anyway? It's like you just dropped by here for no reason at all." I shoot Lissa a grateful look as it diverted all unwanted attention away from me.

Nick leans back and crosses his arms. "Our tour doesn't start until New Year's is over. And besides, coming back and crashing here beats staying at a crappy motel for two weeks."

Lissa brushes red locks out of her eyes as she stares at Nick. "So where's everyone else?"

"Iggy's place," he answers casually. "Watching TV and pigging out on pizza."

Lissa furrows her brows. "Wait—Iggy? Doesn't his parents..." She lets the unfinished question hang in the air but Nick picks it right up.

"He still owns the attic, apparently."

To any other person, this could be a regular, normal conversation. But I knew better—Nick's posture may have spelled relaxed in block letters above his head, but his dark eyes stray away from jade greens. I finger the frayed hem of my sweater and sneak a glance at Lissa in the silence that follows; she's sneaking not-so-discreet looks at the clock.

It's seven fifty; fifteen minutes since half of our group oh so kindly volunteered to grab takeout. Fifteen minutes of sitting in a small cafe with two people who radiated enough unspoken tension to brew storm clouds.

I clear my throat and I regret it once two pairs of eyes settle on me. "Well, after the lovely chat we just had, who wants something to drink?"

_Nice save, Max. Not._

Lissa shoots me a thanks-but-that-was-kinda-pathetic look but shrugs. "Since you're offering, I'll take an iced tea."

I turn to Nick. "Ride?"

He arches an eyebrow at my insistent use of his surname. "Caramel latte, Martinez."

Well, fuck me sideways. I could make a passable iced tea but I'll probably end up butchering the latte. Another look at his smirking face tells me all I need to know about my current situation. I whirl around, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing that my latte skills were on par with my cooking ones. I stride over to the bar and school my features, determination to prove him wrong steeling my resolve.

Maybe Nick's just realized that telling me to make his order was equivalent to me trying to poison him, but I sense his presence behind me as I make Lissa's tea.

"Relax. I was just teasing you."

I turn around, hands on my lips. "So that means I don't have to make it, right?"

He chuckles at my hopeful expression. "No, you do," he says while my face falls, "but I'll teach you. It's not that hard, really."

Nick must've seen the dubious expression on my face as he clutches at chest in a mock-heartbroken way. "I'm hurt, Martinez, doubting my latte-making skills. But if you must be reassured, I used to work as a barista here."

I roll my eyes. "Rest assured—no worries remain, Mr. Overdramatic."

For the next few minutes, I'm forced to grudgingly admit that Nick knew his shit. He'd stopped me from burning the milk and slipped me tips on pulling shots of espresso. It was physically taxing to be in a close proximity with him, I'd admit—I'd be lying if I said he wasn't attractive. The air was at least three degrees warmer behind the counter and I'll be honest—if Nick wasn't part of a touring band and I didn't have a cheating father in the picture, I wouldn't feel irked by the thoughts that were currently in my head.

"Okay, you can pour it in now."

"Oh. Right."

As if he's reading my thoughts, a smirk curls at the corner of his lips, one that I suddenly want to smack off his face.

I reach for the caramel syrup, mentally debating on whether I should go for the traditional swirl or something else entirely.

"Any time now, Martinez," he drawls, leaning back on the counter, dark eyes boring straight to mine. "I have to leave in five."

I purposely ignore him and in the end, _Nick Sucks_ is written in messy caramel and I happily hand it over to him.

Instead of making a snarky response, he takes a sip and then he's right next to me, leaning down, mouth right next to my ear. He smells like mint and caramel and danger, breath tickling flyaway strands.

"Pretty good, Martinez. But call me Fang."

He is out the door in ten seconds flat, leaving me to wonder if I should've secretly dropped ice in his drink and a flabbergasted Lissa.

I march over to her with a neglected iced tea. There's so much that I want to ask her, but one look at her face tells me that there will be time on a later day. So instead, I place her drink on front of her and slide back into my original seat.

"Fang? That's a joke, right?"

But before she can answer, the entry bell rings again and Nudge, Tess, and Maya rush in, carrying white telltale takeout bags.

"Hey, a guy just rushed out and the store is closed..."

The trio dumps the bags on the table and Maya turns to me.

"So what did I miss?"

An evil smile twists its way onto my face and I'm glad she'd deposited her takeout bag. She was gonna have a field day for sure.

"You might wanna sit down, sister dear."

.

.

* * *

_I don't wanna get caught in all your lies_

* * *

.

.

**AN: This is incredibly short (probably the first time I had to visibly struggle to type a chapter—depressing af I know) but I wanted to update before finals begin in a week for me.**

**Wanna drop a review? They motivate me (:**


	7. an unfortunate author's note

Oh hey. Hi.

It's been ages since I updated this story; I know and I'm sorry. With all my problems in rl aside, I looked back at most of my writing in this and cringed. Anyway, I'm just letting you guys know that I'll be posting a newer version of this fic (late November, I'm guessing) mainly because the plot is still floating in my mind and this story _does_ have potential.

(:


End file.
